Killer No.13

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‘One Shot, One Kill.’ Sniper motto. That’s what they taught us anyway. That was once upon a time. A life long gone. Another lifetime.

It was at the Kenya Army School of Infantry. The training was vigorous, and dangerous.

First, I trained as a Recon Ranger, then Special Forces sniper. I was Killer No.13. Lucky thirteen, enhe!
Turned to a razor-sharp weapon, killing machine.

Then was enrolled for a secret hit squad that never existed, and it doesn’t exist. Our missions were TOP SECRET. We eliminated the highest value targets that could be threat to national and regional, make that international, security.

The only problem was that the pay was paltry. You know how the government, especially the forces, is mean.

Solution? I went freelance. In the mansions of powers that be I am respected, and honoured, and a solution to all problems – both political and religious.

Hit List

It is much easier for a two-hump camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a poor man to enter the kingdom of lucre and subscribe to

The Bootylicious Spy

Photo: sanamu.com According to the Nairobi urban dictionary, I am a socialite: a young beautiful woman with tantalizing titties (anterior), big ass (posterior) and no brains. Thanks to the (upcoming

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